


It is what it is — you, me

by ffslynch



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29064573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ffslynch/pseuds/ffslynch
Summary: For two years, Kuroo didn't talk to Kenma.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 7
Kudos: 98
Collections: Kuroken(hasbroheybro), Soulmate AU(hasbroheybro)





	It is what it is — you, me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hana_shi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hana_shi/gifts).



> Happy birthday to my beautiful child Robin! I hope you enjoy this tiny thing, it's not much or nearly enough what you did for me, but I hope you like it anyway. Now go drink water, get 8 hours of sleep and eat your greens <3

Although young love can be a beautiful thing, naive and passionate, it can also be extremely painful. Years of sensitive young hearts, falling in love just to be left behind, or outgrow each other as life changes at such a fast pace. Not to mention the terrible pains of an unrequited crush - truly one of humanity's most cruel factors. 

Fortunately, Kuroo had been born in a universe where soulmates existed. No doubts over if someone was the right for you, no overthinking if the relationship would work on the long term, no fears of break-ups or broken hearts, at least not in theory. All he had to do was to wait until his 18th birthday, and the name of his soulmate would appear on his skin, pretty and neat, and he would know.

Unfortunately, Kuroo was already in love, had been for most of his life, in fact. Out of all people, Kuroo had fallen in love with his best friend. The feeling had been there for as long as he could remember, growing and growing and taking over him. There was not one thing that Kuroo could think of, that he didn’t love about Kenma. He loved the golden eyes that saw everything, his calm voice that was always a bit scratchy in the mornings, the hair that he had been helping to dye blonde since Kenma was 15, the small hands and lean fingers that were constantly typing on something - a keyboard, a video game, a wooden table, his own leg, the sharp and dry sense of humour. Kuroo loved Kenma, so so much, sometimes when he thought of him, it felt harder to breathe.

It was a sad thing that he rarely allowed himself to think too much about. He knew that if he did, he would end just throwing himself a pity party. He dealt with it as he could - making sure Kenma wouldn’t bump into anything on their way to and back from school, that he was always hydrated and ate his vegetables, that no one ever dared to disrespect him because of his size or shy demeanour. There were other little things he did as well, but those were more for him than anyone else. He would allow his eyes to linger on Kenma whenever he could (it was embarrassing, really, the amount of people who had noticed. But it was ok because Kenma hadn’t and that was what mattered), he would run his fingers through Kenma’s hair, drape his arms or legs over him at every chance he had. It was selfish, but who could blame him? Kuroo was just human, trying to survive the pains of being in love with someone that wasn’t his. Or at least, not yet - because truth be told, Kuroo couldn’t possibly imagine loving anyone that was not Kenma. 

And so, on the midnight of November 17th 2012, Kuroo had not been surprised at all when the name ‘Kozume Kenma’ appeared on the top of his left thigh, bright red against the pale skin that rarely ever saw the sun - right there, on the first place Kenma had ever touched him, as they played video games one night in his bedroom, and Kenma got too excited by Kuroo making an impressive good mood against a hard boss.

It should have been great, a wonderful feeling that would fill him up and blow over as if there were fireworks coming out of his heart. However, all Kuroo felt was the bitter taste of burnt charcoal on the back of his tongue. It should have been a wonderful feeling if it wasn’t for one tiny detail - For as long as he could remember, Kuroo had always been sure that Kenma did not love him back.

It was a sad story, especially because it was an exception to the rule. It didn’t happen often, but it happened enough for the world to be obliged to study in schools when it came to learning the soulmate system in biology. Sometimes, your souls didn’t align, and the soulmate bond didn’t complete. So you could have someone as your soulmate, but they would not have your name back. Or one side of the bond would be platonic and the other romantic, or one side would never complete the bond and be soulmateless, or even the fact that both soulmates might never meet, lost in time or space. 

Soulmates were a human thing, you see, and so they were filled with a margin for error. It happened, as most disasters do. And it was always awful, but it never changed the fact that life is what it is. 

The taste of burnt charcoal in Kuroo’s tongue came with the hint of being proven right. He had seen this coming, and he would rather not even try to tell Kenma and risk being proven right again. Kuroo knew too well what happened to people who had a faulty soulmate bond, his parents were a great example of it. And that’s why they hadn’t been together since he was a child, and he never saw his sister any more.

When they had moved to Tokyo, Kuroo asked his father if he didn’t love his mother any more, and if soulmates were a thing then why were they all not happy and together?

Kuroo’s father had simply sighed, ruffled his hair and told him: ‘life doesn’t always work the way we want it to. It is what it is.’

The words stay etched in his mind, and he never forgot the pain in his father’s eyes when he told him, or how broken his mother’s voice sounded on the phone. Back then, he was too young to really understand what had happened, and even now he was too afraid to ask for the details. But it didn’t really matter in the end. His parents were divorced, and Kenma had never shown an ounce of interest in him in any other way than a regular friendship, and soulmates were not a sure way out of heartbreak. That was just how things were. 

Kuroo had seen it before, what happens when soulmates go wrong, and so he prepared for it. He had a plan, a painful one that would hurt him more than anything else in the world, but was very much necessary for his survival. And maybe it was selfish to not tell Kenma or to keep going as if it wasn’t his name on his thigh but there really was no other option for him.

It is what it is. 

7 hours after finding out who his soulmate is, Kuroo walks three houses down his street to meet Kenma, like he did every single morning for the past decade. Kenma looks at him from behind the curtains of hair, smiling softly before telling him ‘happy birthday’, the same scratchy voice of someone that has just woken up after not enough sleep. Kuroo’s heart swells, and he swallows it down, nodding. 

“Thank you,” he tells him before gesturing with his arm towards the end of the street, indicating that they should keep walking. They do, and for the first time in years, his hand doesn’t automatically find Kenma’s shoulder or the middle of his back, to guide him all the way. Kenma doesn’t bump into anything, but he does seem to notice that something is different.

When they are sitting on the train, he fidgets with his game for a while, before giving Kuroo a side look.

“Did you get your soulmate's name?” he asks, and Kuroo nods, not trusting his words. “And…” Kenma asks, and Kuroo shrugs.

“I didn’t recognize it. Maybe I haven’t met them yet,” he lies through his teeth. Kuroo can’t even remember the last time he has lied to Kenma, and it feels so wrong to do it, but the way Kenma shrugs and goes back to his game as if it doesn’t matter - because it doesn’t matter, because Kenma doesn’t care about who Kuroo’s soulmate is - hurts way more than anything else. 

And so that’s how it goes - Kuroo slowly stops touching Kenma unless necessary. Then he stops going over on the weekends, using ‘studying’ as an excuse, and then he stops hanging out with Kenma altogether unless it’s for practice or something related to the team. 

The last 5 months of his life seem to drag by, life slower and much less exciting without his favourite person in the world. Kenma clearly notices Kuroo’s odd behaviour but doesn’t really say anything except for one time when he asks Kuroo if everything is ok. 

Kuroo had gulped and nodded. ‘Everything fine’ he said, lying again. Kenma had stared at him, with the same golden eyes that never seemed to lose any detail. Then he nodded and turned around, going up the stairs to his house. If he noticed Kuroo was lying, he didn’t say anything, and if he cared he didn’t show. 

By the time Kuroo graduates, in March, he has pulled away from Kenma almost completely. Their friends watch it in shock as if they’re witnessing a train crash against a wall or a bird lose the ability to fly. No one knows what happened, no one can know what happened. Kenma is non-responsive when they approach him, and Kuroo first scoffs in denial and then just walks away, ignoring them completely. Eventually, they stop pushing, stop looking for an answer. There is no answer, it’s just how life is. It is what it is.

Kuroo moves away to university one week after graduating, and just like that, he disappears out of Kenma’s life altogether. 

On October 15th 2013, Kuroo finds himself lying in bed, eyes stuck at the ceiling. It will be Kenma’s birthday in a few minutes, the day he’ll find out who his soulmate is.

Kuroo hates that there is a tiny, tiny annoying voice on the back of his brain, telling him that maybe, just maybe, he had been wrong all along, and that his name will appear somewhere on Kenma’s body, wherever it was that Kuroo had ever first touched him. And then maybe, just maybe, Kenma will understand why he did what he did, and call him. Kenma will call him, and Kuroo will probably cry, but it will be ok, and he’ll tell Kenma that he loves him as his voice cracks from all the suppressed emotions and Kenma will...Kenma will…

Kenma won’t. Kenma won’t tell him anything, because when Kuroo looks over at the clock it's already a quarter to two am. If Kenma were to call him, message him, anything, he would have done it already.

Kuroo’s theory was right. It’s not his name on Kenma’s skin.

His brain tries to whisper a ‘maybe in the morning’, but Kuroo shuts it down quickly, drawing down the pain until all he feels is numb. He was right, he had known for a long time. Kenma doesn’t love him, and he has to move on. There’s nothing he can do about it but move on. 

It is what it is. 

Another half of a year passes, and life is boring sometimes and too stressful at others, but is not bad so Kuroo doesn’t complain ever. He visits his dad and grandparents sometimes, sneaking out of his car, so he won’t run into any neighbours. No one ever mentions Kenma, they know better than that, but they always ask him about college and so Kuroo tells them about his classes, his double major, the new team and his colleagues. It’s ok. He can’t complain.

The beginning of his third semester rolls around, and Kuroo spends the whole week struggling to sleep - his apartment complex is always so noisy this time of the year. He lives in a small building, close to campus, that is almost all rented out to university students. That means that the rent is fairly cheap and there’s plenty of 24-hour markets and coffee shops around. It means cheap beer and loud music every weekend. It also means that, as of the moment, the hallway is constantly packed with freshmen moving into the building for their first term. 

Kuroo sighs, taking a deep breath, telling himself that it is only this week and soon enough they’ll settle down and then the first batch of exams will be there to murder everyone's sleep schedules and mental health, so it will be fine. All he needs to do is get over this one week. 

Kuroo glances at the clock and sighs once again, before standing up from his study desk and slipping on his shoes. It’s not too late for a coffee, and maybe he can take a walk over to the library to rent some books he’ll need for the semester and get copies before they get all taken away. It’s probably better to be productive than to just be annoyed and locked away in his apartment. He leaves the apartment, locks the door and when he turns back to the hallway, his heart stops. 

Because staring at him, from the door of the apartment right in front of his, is Kenma. 

They both just stare at each other for a while, completely unsure of what to do. Kuroo gulps down, trying to swallow the feelings urging to come up, the ghost of tears prickling his eyes, the hand squeezing his heart.

Kenma, beautiful, brilliant Kenma. Kenma, who Kuroo had known for over 10 years, Kenma who had been his best friend for 10 years, Kenma who Kuroo knew so well that sometimes people thought of them as an extension of each other. Kenma, who was his soulmate. Kenma…

Kenma who was staring at him, with sharp and cold golden eyes. Kenma who looks annoyed and slightly disgusted at the image of Kuroo.

Kenma who most likely hated Kuroo for pulling away out of his life and blocking him out of nowhere, when he had told him he would never leave him.

If guilt is a wave, then Kuroo is a tsunami. He drowns in himself, in what-ifs and excuses that always circulated his mind on lonely nights when he had too much to drink when his brain betrays him with memories of the past and scenarios of a different life.

A life in which things go right, in which Kenma loves him back, in which Kuroo isn’t cursed with a defective soulmate bond. 

But that isn’t life, it is just imagination. This is the truth: Kuroo has been right and wrong at the same time - Kenma doesn’t love him, and his actions have only annoyed him. Kuroo’s plan hurt himself more than anyone, but his plan has been the right decision. 

It hurts like hell, but they aren’t soulmates. 

There is nothing else he could have done.

It is what it is. 

He is brought back to the present, when a loud noise and the rush of wind hit him. Kenma had stepped back into his apartment, and slammed the door on his face. Kuroo sighs. It is going to be a long year.

He wonders about Kenma, everything about him - what is he studying? How had his last year of high school been? Did he continue playing, after Kuroo left? If he did, did he enjoy being Tora’s vice captain? What are his thoughts on Assassin’s Creed? What about The last of Us and Devil May Cry?

Did he miss Kuroo? Did he ever think of him?

Who is his soulmate? Had he found them yet?

Kuroo spends the next month either rushing away or hiding in his apartment, too scared to run into Kenma. He never asks him any questions, never directs his word at him. Kenma never even looks in his direction (Kuroo, unfortunately, seems to easily fall in his old pattern of letting his eyes glue onto Kenma and linger, whenever he spots him). 

Life moves on - them only a few meters away and miles apart at the same time.

Every time he sees Kenma, Kuroo’s mouth tastes like bile and ash, a spear going through his chest whenever Kenma brushes against him as if he’s a ghost, a part of the decoration, as if he’s not even there. It hurts, even more when Kuroo knows that it is his own doing. He wishes he could take it back, but he knows there is no other option. More often than not, the quick encounters end with him, alone in his room, his father’s words reverberating in his head. 

Life doesn’t always work the way we want it to. It is what it is.

Wednesdays are, statically, the worst day of the week. They’re neither the fresh start nor the glorious ending. They are this awful in between, an all consuming grey area, an ugly weather that is neither pleasantly warm nor comfortably cold - It’s just a big cloud with suffocatingly high humidity. 

Kuroo hates Wednesdays.

More specifically - Kuroo hates the current Wednesday. It’s his busiest day of the week, with classes and work back to back until around 8PM. His work is close enough to his place that he can’t really find an excuse good enough to spend money on public transport, but far away enough that in days like this he just feels like dragging himself through the pavement until he reaches his building. The cherry on top is the weather - scattered heavy rain that seems to come every single time he needs to be outdoors in between places. As soon as he leaves his work, it’s pouring outside. It goes without a saying that today, of all days, he left his umbrella at home. 

When he finally gets to his building, Kuroo is soaking wet and exhausted. His feet feel like they’re made from cement, as he drags himself to the elevator without paying attention to his surroundings - all he can think of is his bed. 

Kuroo can see the elevator doors almost closing and sticks his arm inside, blocking the door before it closes on him. He enters with his head hanging low, muttering a ‘good evening’ to the other person already inside. Kuroo goes to push the button for his floor, but it’s already lightened up. The person besides him is very, very quiet, and very, very still. As if they think that maybe if they don’t move or don’t talk, then Kuroo won’t notice that they are there.

Kuroo’s eyes move to the floor, and then to the side, slowly looking up and up and up, to find a ragged pair of Nekoma sweatpants, a damp black hoodie and Kenma’s overgrown dyed hair. 

Kuroo’s breath gets stuck at his throat. The small room feels significantly smaller than it was just seconds before. Kenma stands beside him, hands deep into the front pockets of his hoodie (probably fidgeting his fingers, because old habits die hard and Kuroo doubts he has changed that much), eyes glued to the doors in front of him.

The elevator lets out a sharp, acute sound that reverberates in Kuroo’s ears as the doors open. He watches Kenma’s frame move, away from him, out of the elevator - he takes in the vision. Kenma leaving, Kenma stepping away, Kenma getting out of his reach once again, although on his own accords this time. Something snaps inside of him, and Kuroo impulsively reaches forward and tugs on his sleeve. 

“Kenma, wait,” Kuroo says, not being able to hold back.

Kenma turns, a jerk reaction that comes faster than expected, and pushes him away. For the first time in months, he looks Kuroo in the eyes. 

“Don’t,” he grits through his teeth, “fucking. touch me.” Kuroo looks at him, shocked.

“Kenma,” he whispers, “please…”  
“Please? Please what, Kuroo?” What the fuck do you have to say now, uh? After what, a whole fucking year and a half, uh?” 

Kuroo’s tongue sits with the weight of a thousand elephants in his mouth. It feels impossible to speak. What could he possibly say, how to explain the messed up logic behind his thinking process back then? 

He blinks, but Kenma has already moved on, stomping in his own place clearly pissed off. Kuroo runs after him, anxiously. He doesn’t know why he’s doing it, what good will this whole thing do, but he can’t stop himself, can’t bear the idea of losing Kenma again when he is so, so close to him.

“I... I can explain. I was trying to help you.” At this, Kenma stops, looking at him over his shoulder, pain, anger and a new layer of confusion.

“Help me with what, exactly?” Kuroo gulps.

“I... I need to tell you something,” He says, taking a deep breath, and Kenma stares at him for a moment.

“Well... I’m waiting.” He says, and Kuroo shakes his head.

“Not…. Not here. I can’t tell you here. Can we go to my place? Please?” Kenma looks at him, weary at least, but nods curtly. Kuroo lets out a breath filled with relief, and turns around, opening the door to his apartment. He considers telling Kenma to change outfits, before he gets a cold, but he thinks that if he loses Kenma of sight right now he might either have a panic attack or lose his courage altogether. 

He lets the door open and Kenma follows him into the small studio apartment. Kuroo coughs, embarrassed. It feels strange to have Kenma standing there, in the middle of all his things after such a long time. It’s like seeing something that most definitely should have been there, but for some reason hadn’t occupied the space - like an abandoned demolition lot that was supposed to be a building, the construction for the base halfway done. There had been a Kenma shaped hole in Kuroo’s chest since his 18th birthday and in his life since he graduated. It feels weird, but a relief at the same time, seeing him there. Like the planets are finally aligning themselves again. 

Kenma clears his throat and Kuroo realizes he had been staring. He shakes his head and apologizes. He’s about to ask Kenma if he wants something to drink, when he cuts him off.

“Just tell me what it is, Kuroo.” He says, blunt, and hearing his surname instead of nickname leaving Kenma’s lips is just another slash of a knife in his chest. Kuroo sighs, there’s not much he can do now.

Kuroo has always thought of himself as someone who is good with words, but they seem to fail him in the most important times. He has no idea what or how to say it, how to even begin explaining. 

Kuroo takes a deep breath, concluding that in this case actions would work better than words. He starts undoing his belt, and Kenma blushes, raising his hands over his eyes.

“What the fuck are you even doing?” He yells, and Kuroo starts spurting apologies and ‘how is not what it seems’. 

“Kenma” He says, trying to interrupt the wave of ‘what the hell is wrong with you’ coming his way “Kenma...Kenma! Look!” He yells now, louder than him. It takes a beat or two, but eventually Kenma peaks in between his fingers.

On the top of Kuroo’s tight, above the damp jean, is his full name.

“Oh,” Kenma says. And then there’s silence. Kuroo stares at him, reading every single micro reaction in his face. There’s nothing - blank canvas. And then there’s anger. “How… How could you?”

“What?” Kuroo asks, confused, pulling his jeans back up.

“How could you hide this from me? What the hell Kuroo?” Kenma asks, looking at him in the eyes, his eyes burning through Kuroo. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Kenma screams, when Kuroo remains silent, with tears in his eyes.

“ For you! I didn’t tell you for you! Because I’m not your soulmate, and I knew we wouldn’t be together, so I stepped away! Or even worse, I didn’t want to pressure you into thinking that we had to be together!”

“But we could have been together! If I’m your soulmate, then…”

“Then nothing!” Kuroo interrupts him, yelling over Kenma’s broken voice. “I don’t want this.” He says, voice filled with anger and frustration - at Kenma, at himself, at the damned soulmate system. “I don’t want you being with me because you think you should, not when I’m not when we’re not soulmates, not when you don’t love me. I don’t want your pity, I will not be your comfort blanket. If you don’t love me, then I don’t want this.”

“You think I don’t love you?” Kenma asks, voice suddenly devoid of feelings, and Kuroo chuckles, bitterly, not an ounce of humour in his voice. 

“I KNOW you don’t love me Kenma.” Kuroo says, the words pouring out of him filled with pain and regret. His throat burns, acid coming up with the anger and the tears and years of repressed feeling being swallowed down with resignation. 

“How could you know that?” Kenma mumbles and Kuroo scoffs.

“What?”

“I asked,” Kenma says “How could you possibly fucking know that?” Kenma looks at Kuroo in the eyes, and Kuroo burns. He is angry, and hurt, and offended on so many different levels.

“Because I fucking know you. I have always known you better than anyone else in this world. You have never, EVER, glanced at me differently, treated me differently, acted around me as if I was anything but a friend,” At his answer, Kenma buries his head in his hands, shaking.

“You’re stupid. You’re so fucking stupid,” Kenma mutters to himself, and Kuroo scoffs, filled with outrage.

“I did this for you,” he repeats. “I did it so you wouldn’t have to deal with me and my feelings, okay? I suffered in silence, so you wouldn’t be bothered, so you would be happy.”

“Happy?” Kenma asks, looking up. There are tears lining up his eyes, but the gold glows with pure rage. Kuroo thinks that in over a decade he has never seen him so angry. “You think I was happy? You just fucking dropped me out of nowhere. You got your soulmate name and then started pulling away and ignoring me, and then you just moved and blocked me completely. You wouldn’t talk to anyone about me! It’s like I was a fucking disease, or you just decided you hated me!” Kuroo swallows Kenma’s words, and they are as bitter as medicine, truths he hates thinking about. If Kenma can see his pain on Kuroo’s face, he chooses to ignore. 

“And you said that you knew what would happen! As if you’re a fucking psychic! So tell me Kuroo, if you know me so fucking well, in which universe have I ever treated any of my friends the way I treated you?” He screams. Kuroo’s eyes snap open and he looks at the boy in front of him, trembling with anger and tears in his eyes. Kenma keeps talking, just throwing question after question at him, each one hurting more than the one before. “How could you possibly think I saw you the same way as everyone else? How could you possibly leave me, and think I’d be fine with that? That I’d be happy without you? How could you not see that I was in love with you?” Kenma asks. He’s crying, and so is Kuroo, and God, why life has to be so painful. Love is supposed to be good, to be easy. It isn’t supposed to be like this.

“I thought…” Kuroo starts, voice broken. “I thought you were my soulmate, but I wouldn’t be yours. And then… And then your birthday came. And you didn’t say anything, so I assumed I was right.” Kenma sighs, as Kuroo explains.

“Why would I reach out? You hadn’t talked to me in almost a year. You had made it clear you didn’t want me around.” He says, voice tired.

“Well… At least you don’t have to deal with me. You can just...ignore me from now on, and be happy with your soulmate whenever you find them.” At Kuroo’s words, Kenma lets out a ragged laugh, something bitter and exhausted. 

“God, Kuroo,” he says “You’re so fucking stupid.” Kuroo looks up, ready to protest, but he finds Kenma pulling out his hoodie, lifting the large white shirt he is wearing underneath it to reveal his torso. 

Over the right side of his chest, in bright red, are the words ‘Kuroo Tetsurou’.

All the air gets knocked out of Kuroo’s chest.

“Oh,” he chokes out.

“Yeah. Oh.” Kenma replies, sarcastic letting the shirt fall down again, covering the name - the proof of Kuroo’s stupidity. There’s a beat, or two, and then Kuroo is standing up, his body moving faster than his mind can process. A blink of an eye and he’s in on his knees, hugging Kenma’s legs. 

“Kenma, please, please, please, give me another chance. I’ll never leave you again, I’ll love you more and more and more, every day. I’ll make up for the past two years, I’ll be the best boyfriend ever, the best soulmate ever. Please.” He mutters. He looks up to Kenma, eyes filled with tears. “I love you. I love you so, so much. Please, let me love you for the rest of your life.” 

“Stupid Kuroo,” Kenma mumbles, fingers threading through his hair. There’s a soft smile on his face. For the first time in months, he looks at Kuroo the same way he used to - the same exasperated fondness Kuroo had grown familiar with. “Do you really have to ask?” he whispers, and Kuroo rises to his feet, so he can finally, finally, cup Kenma’s face delicately in between his hands - as if he’s a cloud, a bubble, a dream made reality that if pressed or peered to hard might burst away and disappear.

“Can I kiss you?” Kuroo barely whispers.

As a form of answer, Kenma presses his own lips to his. 

Young love can be a very complicated thing. It’s overly sweet, like cotton candy - but can cause cavities or dissolve too fast. It’s bright, passionate, burning - but one might burn themselves to a crisp, lost on the intensity of it all. It’s the amazing feeling of being surrounded by water, floating, with no gravity pull to drag you down - or drowning on it to the point you can’t breathe. Love is all of these and three times harder. When confronted with the possibility of losing their soulmate or not being loved back, people can and will do the most stupid acts in order to escape the pain. 

Soulmates are a system, filled with flaws and inconsistencies as all humans are. 

But sometimes, the system works and faith mingles with their long fingers in it as well, leading to two boys meeting each other, becoming the closest friends, learning each other's languages, signs and ticks, and falling in love. Sometimes, people are lucky like that. Sometimes, even if it takes a detour and a few mountain climbs to get there, love becomes an easy thing.

And that’s how it is for Kuroo and Kenma. Two years of silence quickly turning into an eternity of intimacy, tender-filled bickering and ultimate support and fondness. At the end of the day, and every other day after that, Kuroo and Kenma are best friends, partners, lovers, soulmates. 

It is what it is. 

**Author's Note:**

> aah, I missed writing angst lmao  
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading this! Feedback is always more than welcome and If you'd like to see me yelling about yearning, Kuroo and confessions you can always find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ffskuroo)!!


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